Once Upon a Midnight Dreary
by sariahbradshaw
Summary: Despite all they've been through it haunts her, in the silence of the night. CaptainSwan One-shot.


Disclaimer: Nope, nada.

A/N: A little worm that wouldn't leave me. Also, who can finish the title for me?

There's a cry and the sound of flesh being rent. Blood is gurgling, hot and pouring and then-

Emma jolts awake in a half-seated position in their bed. Her legs swing out onto the cold hardwood without a second thought as she bolts to the bathroom. She has the thought not to slam the door behind her and wake the room's other occupant, and then her head is in the toilet.

She knows that the smell of blood is a remnant of a dream, but the coppery scent lingers as she heaves out her dinner. Her back convulses with dry-heaves and Emma rests her forehead against the cool porcelain, closing her eyes and resisting the urge to check her hands for blood.

 _Just a dream. It's just a dream_. Except it's not, truly. She really did stab Killian, see his blood coat the legendary sword. Held him as his heart slowed and-

Emma becomes aware of the presence in the room with her as a warm hand fingers through her hair, pulling it back and over his shoulder as he settles behind her. Two legs surround her kneeled position before the hand returns, drawing slow circles on her back.

"Killian, get out." The command comes out much more choked then she would like as her stomach churns again but the last thing she needed was him in here with her.

He makes a tutting noise and she feels his arm lift, praying for one moment that the infuriating man might actually listen to her until she hears the faucet being turned on. She wearily opens her eyes, face still pressed against the cool rim of the toilet, in time to see a glass of water being offered over her left shoulder.

"Now now Swan, drink up." Two piercing blue eyes meet hers and she feels her muscles clench again.

 _The sword pierces black leather like butter, going through flesh and bone as though it were nothing._

She convulses over the toilet again as her body attempts to possibly expel not only dinner but lunch and maybe breakfast.

The glass of water gets placed next to her as Killian presses a palm into her forehead, discretely checking for fever. Her face is clammy but cool to his touch so he brings it back steady her waist as his stump rubs her back. "Easy there love."

Emma's convulsing slows and her pants are the only sound in the dead of night.

"Really Swan, it's almost as if my handsome visage is too much for you to handle." There's concern behind his joke and Emma would smack him if she had the strength.

"I told you to Get. Out. Throwing up is not a playdate." The acrimony in her voice might have been a little more effective if she didn't sound like a 20-year smoker. Who got hit by a bus.

Hook's hand pulls slightly against her waist, firm pressure trying to urge her to lean back against him. "Hmm, Darling you should know better than to try and get rid of me. Hasn't worked before."

She's too tired to fight his tug and he manages to pull her into his chest, her head lolling against his shoulder, eyes still closed as her breathing slows.

"You alright there Swan?" Killian frowns as peers down at her limp form. He smooths away strands of hair matted to her cheek and presses the glass of water patiently to her lips until Emma rolls her eyes open and gulps the water greedily, studiously avoiding eye-contact.

Oh, he's having _none_ of that.

"Hey," He turns her chin until she's forced to look at him. "What's got you leaving the comfort of our bed for such unpleasantries? I doubt it was Granny's."

Killian personally believes that her stomach is made of cast iron, with the garbage he's seen her put away in alarming quantities. He's quite certain that despite all his years, Emma's diet would have him dead in a week. Which is why her sudden sickness is bothering him. She lacked any other signs of illness all day and her skin isn't hot to the touch. Something else has caused her to flee their bed this night.

This close, Emma can smell him. He always smells a bit of leather and open ocean, a hint of rum. _Except the day he smelled of lake water and coldness and copper._

She lunges for the toilet bowl again and immediately regrets how fast she drank the water. She has the vague thought of going to see Archie because truly, vomiting after a freaking dream was getting old really fast. Then she remembers that he's really a cricket and _what even is her life_? The nausea has passed but she's half laughing, half sobbing and must look like she's losing it if the concerned look Killian is giving her is anything to go by.

She's the damned Saviour and has fucking _slain a dragon,_ but in the middle of the night (or morning?) in this house it feels just like too much.

Emma sighs, her chuckles dying down as she lays her head across her arm and peers back at the clearly worried pirate at her back. He nuzzles his head against her shoulder, eyebrows prompting her to speak.

"The town psychiatrist is a cricket. My parents are Snow White and Prince Charming. I'm in a goddamn _storybook_."

Hook's brow crinkles because, yes he does, in fact know all of this and quite a bit more.

"A storybook you're in too because we when I fell into a portal that led to the freaking past-seriously, time travel-you jumped in behind me because I don't know, that's what you like to do. In Neverland, which you know because you are Captain 'bloody' Hook. In that stupid story when you didn't even recognize me. To New York. I mean, how the hell did you even find me in New York City? You're a _pirate_."

She can hear the increasingly hysterical tone of her own voice but truly, the image of Hook navigating a subway line is boggling her mind. The man distrusted her microwave.

"You just kept coming back until, like an asshole, you showed up in Camelot." Emma's voice breaks there and Killian tightens his arm around her waist, dreading where he suspected this conversation was heading.

"Breathe easy Swan."

She starts again, almost angry now, eyes wet. "I mean, I could have found Merlin myself and gotten rid of the darkness but _no_. You had to fucking come find me and play the goddamn hero and-"

"Swan-"

"-get yourself killed." Glassy green eyes are staring up at him, a look of such utter hopelessness that Killian feels his heart break a little. He shifts to rest his face between her shoulderblades, holding Emma to him in an attempt to keep those jagged pieces of the woman he loves together.

"But because there's fucking magic everywhere, I poofed you back and yeah there was darkness and shit but it was going to be alright because I _loved_ you and then instead I-"

She'd done a lot of shit in her lifetime, but she was unprepared to _murder_ someone she loved. To see the fire flicker out of his eyes and the thumping of his heart skid and slow.

 _There's an odd swishing noise as she pulls the sword out of his body._

"-You were _inside_ me an hour ago and I fucking killed you. And you know what you did, after I _stabbed_ you? You put your stupid hand on my cheek and tried to…" She dissolves into messy, thick, completely not badass, leather-wearing, Saviour sobbing at this point because he had been trying to _comfort_ her.

Killian presses his temple harder between her shoulderblades as he tries to drag her off the porcelain and into his arms. The bathroom light flickers and he presses a hard kiss against her spine.

"Swan, it's alright."

She hiccups, the dream pressed against her skull. "I had the sword in my hand and your blood was on it and then you fell and it was in my hair and _I_ did that."

Killian is pretty sure half the town's lights are flickering at this point. There's abject horror on her face and through the tears he sees unfocused eyes and knows what nightmare she's gone into. He survived the Underworld for her and will bloody hell not lose her to this.

"Emma, that's enough." He's close to going to pieces himself but steadies with another hard kiss to her back, pulling her impossibly closer to him. " _Arthur_ killed me. _You_ slew the Dark One to save your family. _You_ risked everything to save me from Hades. _You_ are my True Love. I followed _you_ to Neverland and into the past and to that bloody awful city because you were the guiding star that saved me from centuries of nothingness. And for your information, while the metal contraptions were indeed frightening, I am a captain and can read any map, even a blasted subway map, quite proficiently."

She chokes out a laugh at this and he feels her body start to slow, finally pulling her against his chest. Hook rests her head against his sternum and wipes the moisture from her cheeks before moving to caress his fingers through her locks.

"I made love to you tonight because _I love you,_ and we're here, and after everything, it's alright Emma." He lowers his voice to a murmur when Swan turns her face to meet his gaze. "We are both in _our_ house, alive and well even if the frigid tile of the washroom leaves much to be desired, especially when compared to the warmth of our bed."

She chuckles again at that and presses a sleepy kiss to his chest, the exhaustion of turning up everything she had consumed for the past week and the late hour making itself known. But the dream-memory-still stirs beneath her skin, so Emma grabs his waist and holds on tight.

"I dreamed of it," she can't bare to say the words again but knows that he will effortlessly know what _it_ is. "I was back there and could almost taste…"

Rather than let continue, Hook drops a chaste kiss on her mouth. Her temple. Her cheek.

"I know love. I know." He's content to simply hold her for a moment, feel her heartbeat slow into his and her breaths evening out as his touch banishes the sting of memory and dreamscape. When she starts to nod off against him, Killian opens his mouth.

"Think we can convene back to the bedchambers, love?"

Emma blinks dazedly and nods but before she can shuffle out of his lap, he's braced her legs and pulled them both up. The soft smile he gives her as he carries them back to the bedroom makes her roll her eyes. (And if she also happened to snuggle closer to his chest, well that's nobody's business.)

"You're such a cheese ball." She's quite certain he's never heard the phrase but seems to catch her meaning if the exaggerated way he settles her under the covers is anything to go by. He slides into bed with much less fuss, turning so they face each other.

Emma's half asleep when his rasping lilt stirs her awake again.

"Love, do you think...perhaps it would be wise to talk to the cricket?"

Despite pondering it herself earlier, her gut reaction is to refuse. She is the Saviour. She is _fine_. One little nightmare does not warrant ending up as one of Archie's subjects.

"I know you're not fond of opening up Swan, but I would rather not have another night like this." He coaxes, a hopeful and slightly heartbroken look on his face and she knows she can't refuse.

"We'll see." Apparently Killian knows he's won too because he gives her a megawatt grin and kisses the tip of her nose. "Good form. Ready to sleep now Swan?"

She's exhausted. Can feel it in the heavy drag of her bones, but…

She pushes herself forward until her head rests against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart as an arm wraps around his torso. (She's cuddling, so sue her. The man's died on her more than once.)

"It's just…" She's trying to find the words to explain to him why this bothers her so much. She slept uneasily after killing Cruella, but his death had been so different. It had been like renting herself apart, like it was her blood that flowed. She barely understands it herself, but it seems important to tell Killian.

His finger comes up to her lips. "Shhh, I understand sweetheart, I promise. I've got you, so why don't you try to sleep? You'll be grateful for it come morning."

Emma groans at the thought of her alarm going off it what was sure to be too little time and settled down against her pirate, a blessedly dreamless sleep falling over her swiftly at the lullaby of his heart.

And if Killian snatched her phone and text Dave that Emma would be arriving late at the station tomorrow? Well, that was his business.


End file.
